Insomnia of the Heart
by rafayel-kun
Summary: Takes place after the manga. Spoilers. "Roy and Riza are living together? And what's this about not sleeping?" No intense plot. Royai, obviously, with some cute and humorous moments. News on updates in profile. Now rated M as of chapter sixteen.
1. Moving In

Water like heavy rain pounded against her body. She loved this showerhead. If she stood a certain way, the water beating against her shoulder felt like a hand gently rubbing the muscle; back and forth, back and forth. She relaxed for a few minutes, just letting the feel of the shower wash over her. Her hair, saturated, slipped over her shoulder and curled across her collar bone. She unconsciously touched the scar on her back, fingering the raised tissue.

"Lieutenant?"

Riza froze. She'd left the bathroom door open. Curse old habits, procured from living alone with only a dog. She'd never had a need to close the door before now.

"Don't come in."

"Oh, sorry." She saw his shadow through the shower curtain back out of the room.

Hurriedly, she turned off the water and finished drying her hair and draped the towel across her shoulders, then stepped out of the shower. There were no clean clothes in here. Another habit. She pulled on her dirty pants and left the room.

Only to trip over someone's legs in the hallway. She fell forwards and stopped herself face-planting the floor with the heel of her palm, skinning it across the wood floor. The rest of her body collapsed on top of him.

Instinctively he tried to help her up, but he kept touching all the wrong places. She pushed his hands away and stood up herself.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Riza sighed and took his hand, pulling him up, and went into her room to dress.

She could feel his eyes on her naked body, and even though she knew he couldn't see anything, it still made her feel weird. 'He's only following sounds.,' she said to reassure herself.

"I didn't mean to walk into the bathroom, but I didn't hear you move for awhile, so..."

"I'm fine," she said, pulling out a large button-up t-shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants. She slipped into them and tossed her dirty day clothes and the towel into a basket. "Are you going to take a shower?" she asked.

"Okay."

Once he was in the bathroom and the water was turned on, she flopped down on her bed with a sigh, covering her eyes with one forearm.

How could she deal with this?

Roy Mustang. It had been about a month since the Promised Day-the day the world was saved. The day he had lost his sight. He had been living with Fuery for that length of time, but the situation changed when the little guy had stated that it would be more practical if Roy was living with Riza.

Everyone had gone silent at the comment.

"You're his eyes, aren't you, Lieutenant Hawkeye, ma'am?"

And so, not knowing exactly how she felt about it, the other guys had helped move him into her apartment.

This was their first night.

She heard a loud thud in the bathroom and noticed the water had been turned off. She got up, walked down the hall, and looked into the bathroom. "Colo-" Her tongue froze. He had fallen onto the floor, the tile slick under his wet feet. There was a towel wrapped around his waist, but not much else. Disoriented in the middle of the floor, he had sat up and scooted so that his back was against the wall.

"-nel. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I slipped."

"I can see that."

Hayate popped up out of nowhere and started licking the water off of Roy's feet. He flinched at the touch at first, his eyes wide, but then he recognized what it was. He gave a soft smile and patted the dog on the head.

Riza leaned down and took his elbow and she helped him to his feet. The towel slid further down his hips and he unconsciously took hold of it to keep it up, at the same time that she did. Their hands met and they froze. She drew her hand back as if it was on fire and he swallowed as he wrapped the towel more securely around his waist.

'Stupid, Riza. He lost his sense of sight, not his sense of touch.'

She led him out of the bathroom and down the hall to his bed, newly installed on the opposite side of her bedroom. She opened his new bureau and pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt for him. She left him alone as he dressed, going into the small kitchen-slash-living room.

Riza took a deep breath as she leaned against the counter. His hair, still wet, left droplets running in rivulets down his well-built torso, across the large scar taking up most of the right side of his abdomen, where he had burned himself to save his own life.

She touched her throat where a straight, slightly-thick scar ran across it. In addition to her back and throat, she also had minor scars all over, including one that was still healing on her shoulder from a month ago.

So many permanent mementos of their lives. The body of a soldier was not beautiful.

But his wouldn't leave her mind.

She ran a hand through her damp hair and got started on making dinner. 


	2. Senses

Riza was the type to sleep deep and wake easy. This skill was perfected on the battlefield when she needed to rest for a few minutes (or, rarely, an hour), and then be awake at the drop of a hat.

But that night, she couldn't sleep very well. And she could tell Roy wasn't catching many winks either.

She had to admit, he was a little hard to take care of. He kept bumping into things, but over a course of a week he became more familiar with her apartment.

Their apartment.

Work was more challenging. She constantly had her hand on his elbow, guiding him, overly conscious of the touch and how it was against the rules. But she figured this was a special case.

Riza had to keep reminding him not to strain his eyes. The urge to try to see through the darkness was still in him, and half the time his eyes were so wide he looked frightened. She knew this wasn't the case, but it was still creepy all the same. Any time she caught him with this expression, she told him to shut his eyes.

But he still tried to look around him from time to time. The fact that he was blind still hadn't physically sunk in yet.

Roy still wasn't sleeping well after the first week. He kept tossing and turning in his bed, sheets getting entangled around his legs. He would groan sometimes and wake himself up from a shallow slumber and lay there, breathing in deeply. Everytime this happened, Hayate would get down from her bed and go and sniff him, and when the dog was certain he was alright, he would come back and lay with his master.

The bags under his eyes grew darker and heavier-looking with each day. Once he even swayed on his feet, shoulder hitting the wall.

The final straw was ten days after his arrival at her-their-apartment. They were once again at work and in the middle of a meeting.

Riza's rapt attention was broken when his hair brushed against her cheek and his temple leaned against her shoulder. "Colonel?"

"Hm?" he mumbled sleepily, picking his head up again. Then he flinched and sat up straight. She looked at him worriedly.

This had gone on far enough. She decided to interrogate him that night. Was he self-conscious about being in the same room as her? Or was he seeing something in his mind's eye that wouldn't let him sleep?

She waited until after his shower and he was sitting despondent on the bed to approach the subject. She had made a cup of tea, a special kind she had picked up for the occasion. Chamomile, spearmint, and lemongrass, it was made to help people calm down and relax.

Riza handed him the steaming mug of tea and waited until he had taken a few sips.

"I've been waiting for you to confide in me, but now I have no choice but to ask what is wrong with you."

Roy sat there on the bed, staring unfocused at the floor. She waited patiently for him to speak.

"I can't sleep," he said, reaching out a hand and finding his bedside table. He cautiously placed the ceramic mug on the surface and made sure it was in the center.

"Obviously."

He gave her a half-hearted grin, then it slipped away. "In this darkness, my mind is grabbing at anything it can remember when I was able to see, trying to fill up the void. Unfortunately, most of what I remember is..." He paused, and she knew what he was getting at. Ishbal. The Promised Day. "It keeps repeating over and over again in my head, but each time it gets more and more vague. Like an echo, it'll eventually die out. Mostly I just remember sounds, smells. What I can remember seeing, it's all disappearing."

He paused again and ran a hand through his hair. "Which is fine, I suppose. But then I think of you and the rest of my subordinates. Your faces get more and more distorted, and I lay there... terrified... that one day I won't remember what you look like."

She said nothing, but he heard her come closer, heard the floor creak and the rustle of fabric. And her arms circled around him and held him to her, his face on her collarbone, her hair cascading down his neck.

"Lieu-"

"Shush."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Humans are given five senses. So you lost one. Big deal. What about the other four?"

He said nothing.

"What do you hear?"

He closed his eyes and listened. "Your heartbeat, it's fast. A car went by on the street outside." He shifted his leg. "The movement of fabric. Your dog is snoring lightly behind you. On your bed? And I think I hear rain."

"What do you smell?"

He breathed gently through his nose. "Shampoo, soap, perfume... you smell like roses. Human... warmth." He didn't know how else to describe it, the scent her skin gave off. "Cedar, dampness, dust. That tea, it smells like flowers."

"Feel?"

"The soft skin on your neck, your hair falling against my shoulder, the pulse of your life. Your clothes, and mine, this hard mattress, the rough wood beneath my bare feet. The vibrations of your voice through your bones. Your breathing."

"And taste?"

He licked his lips. "Your perfume."

"That means I am close to you."

"Yeah."

"I meant, for future reference."

"When did you start wearing perfume? I don't remember you ever using it."

"Just now. This way you'll know where I am if I'm not touching you. By scent and, when I'm nearer to you, taste."

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look up at her. Darkness. Unbidden, a tear left his eye and slowly made its way down his face. She absently brushed it away with her thumb.

"As long as I still live, I will never leave you. I will be your eyes."

He slept better that night. She didn't know if it was because of the tea or not. 


	3. Burden

"How do you feel about Grumman's way of running things?" Riza asked about a week later, when they were eating dinner in the small kitchen.

Roy quickly learned that he had to eat with his eyes closed. Having them open, searching, trying to see when they could not, just made him make a mess of things. Pretending he was just eating with his eyes shut helped him out a lot, reminded him how to coordinate his hands so the food actually went into his mouth and not all over his face and body. He still didn't know about the mess he made on the table, though. Pasta sauce and noodles were all over the place. Usually Riza calmly cleaned up after him, didn't tell him anything. He had enough on his mind as it were.

Mustang shrugged, lost in thought. Riza didn't bring it back up again.

They finished and he trudged down the hallway (his hand on the wall, guiding him) into the bedroom, flopped onto the bed. Hayate wagged his tail in appreciation when Riza scraped the noodles off the table and put them into his bowl. She silently washed the dishes, and then the sauce-covered table, and dried her hands.

There came a knock at the door and Hayate barked. Riza went to answer it. She opened the door to find Fuery standing there with an envelope.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Sorry to bother you so late, ma'am. Message from the Fuehrer."

She took the envelope and Fuery kneeled down to pat Hayate on the head. The dog wagged his tail happily at seeing his friend again.

"See you in the morning, ma'am. Good night."

"Good night," she said, shutting the door when he had descended the steps. She walked into the bedroom and sat on her bed, slit the envelope open.

Riza's eyes roamed over the paper and she sighed.

"What's that?" Mustang asked from across the room, his eyes looking unseeingly up at the ceiling.

"Military ball," she said simply. "Fuehrer Grumman wants to hold one before we get sent east."

"Lovely," Roy said, his voice implying something entirely different. "A great chance to show an ass out of myself when I trip over someone and accidentally rip a dress off of a woman."

"You have a rather overactive imagination."

"It could happen."

"Too bad you won't get to see what's under that dress you rip off, hm?"

"...That hit below the belt, Lieutenant."

She said nothing, just folded the paper and put it back in the envelope, set it on her desk.

"When is it?" Roy asked quietly.

"The day before we leave, in about six days. He has no common sense, holding one so abruptly. And we barely have enough time to prepare as it is without having a ball right before our departure."

"Ah, we'll be fine," he said, nonchalant, folding his hands across his stomach.

"Well, since a certain someone can't do paperwork anymore, the progress has been much slower."

"You sure are being mean tonight."

Riza said nothing to rebuke it. She really was. Was it the strain on her of having to live with a blind man? But... it wasn't his fault. She held her head in her hands.

After awhile, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

To which he answered, "It's fine", and turned over onto his side, his back to her.

Silence reigned, and Riza slowly laid down on her bed, covered herself with a blanket.

"Hey," he said after awhile.

"Hm?" she said halfheartedly, not at all tired.

"I'm sorry."

She sat up in bed and looked over at him. "What?"

"For being a burden."

"You're not-"

"I am, and don't deny it."

A pensive silence.

"Okay, fine. Yes, you are a burden."

His tense body relaxed, but not in relief. More like dejection.

"But," she started again, "I want to do this, so shut the hell up."

She flopped back down onto her bed, her face in her pillow.

Roy's eyes widened at her choice of words and he turned in her direction. "Lieutenant?"

"Go to bed. We're getting up earlier tomorrow."

Roy blinked and laid back down on his back, his eyes directed at the ceiling once more. He covered his mouth with one hand as a grin creeped onto his face. Riza shifted her head to the side and looked at him through her curtain of hair, her own mouth crooked into a smile. She hadn't seen him grin like that since before his eyes had been taken.

She would do anything to keep it on his face. 


	4. French Fries

They had two visitors at the office the next day.

"Riza!"

"Bastard colonel!"

Roy pinched his nose in annoyance. "Hey, Fullmetal."

Riza smiled. "Winry, it's nice to see you."

"How's life treating you?" asked the golden-haired boy, looking around the office. Everything old had been put into boxes, but the six of them were still working on new paperwork.

"We're working, as you can see."

"Yes, I can see. And I can also see the bags under your eyes. Lieutenant Hawkeye not letting you get any sleep?"

Roy could practically hear the smirk in the boy's voice. "None of your business."

Edward shrugged, even though Roy couldn't see it. "Well, Winry wanted to go... dress-shopping..." (he said this word with obvious distaste), "for the military ball."

"Oh, you were invited, too?" Roy asked, scowling.

"Yup." There was a sense of knowingness in his voice that made Roy want to punch him. "So you get to hang out with me allllll afternoon."

"But... we have no time for them to go shopping-" Roy started, but was interrupted by Riza.

"Then you better get your ass in gear, Colonel, because we _are_ going shopping."

"We as in... us, too?" Roy asked, hesitant.

"Well, you have to wear your uniform, right? So you're good." Ed asked. "But I need a suit. Unfortunately. At least it won't take too long."

"You're not accompanying us," Winry said, sticking her tongue out. "You guys can chill together while us women pick out outfits."

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Riza ambushed him later in the hallway, Winry walking down the corridor chatting amiably with Roy.

"Edward."

"Lieutenant."

"Watch over him for me will you?"

Edward grinned. "You didn't even have to ask."

Riza directed her gaze to the two a little ways away. Her brows were slightly furrowed.

Edward corrected his expression, adopting a serious one. "He won't get hurt. I swear on my life."

"Thank you."

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"Would you please stop flicking french fries at me?"

Edward paused in his actions before flicking another one.

"Fullmetal..."

They had seen the girls off after work, after the soldiers had gone to their shared apartment to change into civilian clothes. Hayate went off with the girls, happy to stretch his legs. The men had gone in a different direction. It wasn't hard for Edward to find a suit. He chose a simple black dress-shirt with thin, red satin trim on the cuffs and collar, a pair of black pants, and a pair of black dress shoes while Roy stood, disoriented, at the front of the shop.

Now they were at a small cafe, sitting outside at a glass table eating chili dogs and french fries.

"Fullmetal," he said, voice deeper this time.

"I'll stop flicking them when you can dodge them."

"How on earth can I dodge them?"

Edward paused again before aiming one smack in the middle of Roy's forehead. "You need to feel them, sense them. Become one with the potato!"

"...become one with the potato."

"Yes, you understand!"

Roy sighed but decided to humor the young man.

In the end, Roy had dodged only a few, and all of their french fries (both trays combined) were on the ground being pecked at by pigeons.

"You suck," Edward commented.

"Shut up."

Silence fell between them. Edward watched him, his chin in his palm, his elbow on the table, as the older man sipped water from his glass.

"Stop staring at me," Roy said.

Edward blinked before sitting up. "You can sense me staring at you, but not an incoming french fry?"

"That's different. They're... not alive. Or something."

"Or something."

"Whatever."

Silence again. When Roy had finished with his glass, Edward took both trays and handed them back to the woman at the counter, then went back to the table and sat down.

"Roy Mustang."

"...What? And when did you start calling me by my name?"

"Since just now, and since I'm not your underling anymore, I can call you whatever you want."

Roy scowled slightly.

"Anyway," Edward continued, then paused as if to collect his thoughts. "You should really focus on your other five senses."

"...Five?"

"Hearing, touch, scent, taste. And _feel_."

"Feel... isn't that the same as touch?"

Edward frowned, shifting in his chair. "How do I explain it... not _feel_ exactly, but... more like _knowing_. You _know_ that I'm looking at you right now. You need to _know_ the french fry is heading your way. Understand?"

Roy let his eyes fall to the table as he entwined his fingers on top of it. "Yeah."

"Don't you want to make the lieutenant's job easier?" Ed asked.

"Of course," Roy said, and it was his turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Then train yourself."

"Alright."


	5. Waterworks

"You lied to me."

Riza blinked and looked up at him curiously. She had until then been rearranging her closet. Suffice to say, there wasn't much in there that needed to be hung up, other than her uniforms (her usual battle dress and the formal skirt) and her new dress.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You lied to me," he repeated as he lay there on his bed, eyes closed.

"About what?"

"You said that you'd never leave me, and you obviously did."

It was like a cold hand wrapped around her heart then, squeezing the breath out of her.

"I... I left you with Edward."

"You still _left_ me."

"I'm sorry, I..." The words stuck in her throat and she swallowed thickly.

He had been dryly joking with her, but he could suddenly sense the thickening atmosphere in the room and he shifted, eyes open, trying to find her in the infinite dark and failing. "Lieutenant?"

She covered her mouth with one hand, physically aware that she was starting to hyperventilate but mentally unprepared to stop it. The fears she had suppressed when she had been with Winry, they were back a thousandfold. How afraid she had been for him, how he could have been hurt. She had uneasily taken Edward at his word, but he was still so young, whilst she had the experience of years of watching out for her superior.

"Lieutenant?" he asked again, his voice not so lighthearted this time.

She looked at him, eyes wide.

"Are you alright?"

"N... no..." She bit down on her tongue. "I'm going to take a shower," she said abruptly, voice shaky, and she left him there, even more disoriented than usual, as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

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He was restless now. She'd been in the shower for twenty minutes. Twenty! Her showers usually ended up being ten minutes, tops. Each second that he counted on the clock above him weighed heavier in his mind, until he felt like a mental Central was hastily being built there.

He knew she had taken his joke the wrong way. But what was going on in _her_ mind, as she stood in the shower, water washing over her?

Roy sat up and let his feet find the floor. He was just going to walk by the bathroom, check to make sure she was still moving around and hadn't suddenly fainted or something. He hadn't heard a thud, but his mind was on overdrive and he was starting to panic. So he got up and slowly and quietly made his way down the hallway.

She hadn't forgotten to close the bathroom door this time, he noticed. He gently placed his ear to the door and listened.

The usual monotonous shower sounds were all he could hear. Usually when you moved abruptly in the shower you could hear the sound of the water differently, but he couldn't hear her moving at all.

But wait... He tuned in more, eyebrows furrowed.

Sharp intakes of breath...

He knocked on the door, heart beating fast. Was she hurt? Was she in pain? Had something happened before they had met up again? "Lieutenant?"

There was another, larger, intake of breath before she answered. "What?" she asked, and he couldn't help but hear the shakiness in her voice.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You're gasping."

A pause. "Just... menstrual cramps, that's all."

He furrowed his brows. "Liar."

"Go away," she said, and there was a type of desperation in her voice that made his heart stop.

"Lieutenant... are you crying?"

"No," she said quickly.

He rested his head against the door, sighing. "I'm sorry," he said.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, louder. "I said something that upset you."

Silence. Awkward silence.

"You did," she admitted, and he closed his eyes. "And you have every right to be mad at me," she said, her voice starting to choke up at the end.

"Mad?" he asked, incredulous. "For what?"

"For leaving you."

"I was joking," he said, but he knew it was futile. The damage had been done.

"I know, but... I did break my promise."

"Lieutenant..."

Another silence. The shower squeaked off and he lifted his head from the door, as if staring through the darkness at it could tell him what she was doing now.

Roy heard fabric and surmised she was toweling her hair, and then she slipped on some clothes, and then it was quiet again.

He heard a sniff before she started to talk. "I was so scared," she admitted, her voice muffled. "I didn't want to leave you, but Edward wanted to talk to you. I was afraid that you would get hurt, that someone who didn't like you would find you, and Ed wouldn't be able to do anything. And then I feel horrible because I wasn't even worried about _him_ at all, just you. And all those feelings were wrapped up tightly in a ball in my throat, choking me, and when we met up again..."

A pause, and then she sobbed out, "I was so relieved. You were alright, looking slightly disgruntled with Edward laughing beside you as if there was nothing the matter in the world."

"Lieutenant..."

"I'm sorry I left you," she said. "I won't do it again."

"Lieutenant."

"What?"

"Can I see you?"

"...what?"

"Can I see you?" he repeated.

The slap of feet on wet tile and then the click of the catch in the lock and the creak of the door opening. "What do you mean-?"

The rest of her question stuck in her throat as she felt his hands, gentle, feather-light, on her face. She stood rigid under his ministrations as his fingers softly slid across the skin, the prominent cheekbones, and then his thumbs found her eyes and she closed them as he lightly brushed at her eyelashes.

"You _were_ crying," Roy said, stubbornly, his voice low.

She said nothing, just sucked in a deep breath.

"Can I... can I see more?" he asked quietly, shy.

Her heartbeat quickened and she gave the barest of nods and he explored her face with his fingers. The deepness of her eyes, the ridge of her eyebrows, her small nose, her high cheekbones and smooth cheeks, her delicate jaw and chin. And, finally, hesitantly, her lips, with the lightest of touches. She watched him the whole time, how he leaned forward more, his eyes wide as he still tried to see with them. She saw the childish look of wonder on his face, and two final tears left her eyes.

He frowned instantly. "You're crying again."

Riza let out a shaky laugh, and he was relieved to hear that it was a real one.

"Sorry," she said, smiling, and he felt it under his fingertips, smoothed his thumbs over the expression, and his own mouth smiled, too.

"I forgive you."


	6. Success

The next day was a little awkward between them. Having your superior confide in you is one thing; confiding in your superior was another, especially when you were doing everything you could to protect said superior from... anything. Even yourself.

So, like the time before when she had cried for him, when she thought that Lust had killed him off, he decided to joke about it with her.

"So, this is the second time you've cried for me. If third time's a charm, I wonder what's going to happen next time?"

"Shut up."

Edward and Winry were in town until the military ball and pointedly made a habit of stopping in. They helped out with packing and organizing when they could, and running little errands. Work was finally starting to dwindle down in the face of the group's imminent move out east. To Ishbal.

After work, while some of them went their own ways (Falman to his family, Havoc to go on... oh my gosh, a date, and Fuery to his grocery shopping), some of them stayed. They ordered food in, and Edward, french fry guru, tested his new pupil, whilst Breda cleaned up the mess. However, the distractions of the girls talking in the corner and Breda munching on whatever he was munching on (if it was the french fries that were landing on the floor, he really didn't want to know), Roy couldn't concentrate.

"C'mon, Mustang, you're doing worse than yesterday," Edward complained. "Be one with the-"

"-potato, I know. But I can't concentrate on the potato."

Edward frowned. "Well, better learn how to, because it won't always be quiet when you're going to be shot at," he whispered.

Roy grit his teeth. How had Edward become such a cheeky, wise, little brat? But he closed his eyes anyway (it stopped him from straining them), and took in a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He was considerably better as the evening wore on, and they called it quits for the day.

"I'll be back tomorrow!" Edward called cheerfully. "And tomorrow, you better call me 'sensei'!"

Roy rolled his eyes and waved vaguely in the air in the boy's direction as they left.

"So, what's this all about?" Riza asked as they walked home.

"I'm taking life by the horns, so to speak."

"Well, you better take a shower, you're covered in grease. It's going to be a horror cleaning that off of your uniform."

He frowned. "Sorry." He hadn't thought about that.

"Don't worry about it. I can tell this is important, if not in an orthodox way."

The rest of the week passed just like this. The time they left work was getting earlier and earlier as they ran out of stuff to do. Meaning more time training with Edward.

And, on the last day, Friday, Roy finally became one with the potato.

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Riza noticed how happy he was on the way home that day and decided to indulge him.

"Ice cream?" he asked, when he smelled chocolate and vanilla on the wind as they stood in line.

"For your success today."

"I'm not a little kid," he said, but he was trying to hide a grin. It warred with a scowl over control of his mouth and they clashed to become a smirk.

"That's an interesting expression," she commented, a smile in her voice.

He shrugged and the odd smirk turned into the grin again. He looked so young. It made her smile, but it also made her heart hurt.

Roy got vanilla, Riza chocolate.

"A woman and her chocolate, eh?"

Riza rolled her eyes and started to lick at the melting treat. It was autumn, and the breeze was a bit nippy. They were warm inside their uniforms, and the added cold of the ice cream made an interesting and wonderful sensation of being warm on the outside and cold within.

"You're eating better," she commented.

"Hm?"

"You're not making as much of a mess the past few days."

He paused suddenly and then stepped over a piece of garbage on the road. Her eyes widened. She hadn't even noticed it. Lately it had seemed like everything was back to normal, that he still had his sight. But, of course, he didn't. She cursed her slip of consciousness but was amazed that he could actually sense something, something that _wasn't_ moving.

"Your training is paying off," she said, crunching into the ice cream cone.

"Sort of. I can only really do it perfectly when I'm really concentrating," he said, frowning. "I hate to admit it, and don't tell him I told you this, but I'm going to miss it when Edward's gone."

"Don't worry, I'll practice with you."

He smiled again. "Thanks."

Silence for a little while, comfortable, as they finished their ice cream.

"So what can you sense now?" she asked.

"You're walking beside me, about a foot and a half away. There's a building to the right, I can hear the echoes of our feet. A group of old women down the street." He furrowed his brows. "A trash can to the left, about... fifteen feet and closing. It smells."

Riza tilted her head to the side. So he was combining all of his remaining senses to perceive his surroundings, as well as the sensing of living people.

"And..."

At his pause, she turned to look at him. He reached a hand out and brushed his thumb lightly across the corner of her mouth and her cheek, something wet getting smeared on the skin.

She touched her cheek before blinking and wiping the rest away. "How... how did you know that?"

"I didn't, but now I do," he grinned, before licking his thumb, the chocolate sweet on his tongue.

A small dart went through her system at the gesture, leaving her warm in its wake. She flushed slightly. He didn't notice, just kept on walking.

_That was rather forward of me_, he thought. _Oh well._


	7. Silence

It was the night of the military ball. He was dressed in his uniform, as usual, although Riza had taken the time to do his hair. She'd slicked it back with mousse, her fingers on his scalp making the skin tingle. A few wayward strands fell back onto his forehead, but it was a nice effect overall. His cover sat on his lap as he felt the car move forwards. Riza sat next to him, almost close enough to touch.

He heard her fiddle around with her handgun, loading it, and then the sound of her lifting the hem of her dress to slip it into the holster on her thigh.

"How come you didn't ask a woman to go with you?" she asked calmly, watching the world through the windshield of the cab. Grumman had been kind enough to send one to pick them up.

'And you aren't one?' he wanted to ask, but didn't. "As enchanting as it would be to have a woman on each arm, I figured it wouldn't look good to those less fortunate with their looks."

He heard a quick breath escape through her nose, a short laugh.

"Besides, I haven't touched any woman other than you since I've lost my eyes."

Riza saw the driver's eyes look between them, his eyebrows lifted. She shook her head softly and he returned to his driving.

"Insecurities?" she asked, tapping her fingers against her silk-clad thigh.

"Haven't felt the need to," he said simply.

The car slid to a halt and Riza got out of the car. The driver had gotten out as well, to open her door, but seeing her already out, he moved to get Roy's door. She helped him out, and the car drove off as she took his cover and placed it on his head so as not to mess up his hair.

"You should have let him open the door for you," he said. Inside, he thought, 'If my movements weren't so clumsy, I would have done it myself.'

"Why?" she asked, slipping her arm through his as they started to slowly walk up the steps.

Roy only sighed and shrugged.

It was noisy inside. They obviously weren't the first to arrive. Riza saved him from being blindsided by various people by whispering names into his ear before they accosted him. The closeness of her and the scent of roses were making him uncomfortable and lightheaded, but he managed to speak to everyone alright.

He'd made it a point to look at their lips when they first spoke, and then calculate a few inches up so that it seemed like he was looking them in the eye. It was easier when he pictured the person behind his eyelids everytime he blinked; thinking of how someone looked was accomplished better when his eyes were closed.

"Mustang!" came a voice. He didn't need Riza to tell him it was the new Fuhrer. "Glad you made it here safe and sound, my good boy."

Roy saluted. "Thank you for the invitation, Fuhrer Grumman, sir. It's a pleasure to be here."

"I'm sure it will be more of a pleasure later on," the old man said mysteriously, then let out a laugh, "Ho ho ho!" Before Roy could ask what he meant, he continued. "My dear boy, you must sit with me. Come along. Banquet first, then dancing."

They followed him to his table at the back of the room. Unlike the other tables, which were round and of adequate size, this one was rectangular and enormous.

Riza whispered, "Edward and Winry," but he had already heard the boy's voice joking with someone. They sat down with Riza on his left. "Who else?" he asked under his breath. He felt people around him but some of them weren't talking.

"Those two. Grumman went off somewhere. Havoc is a little ways down the table with..." She paused, blinking. "Rebecca. They're just kind of sitting there staring at the table."

"He's too shy," Roy commented. He heard a chair move and then someone sit down.

"Breda. He's staring at his plate. And then there's Fuery sitting with Sheska, who is next to Winry."

Roy gave a soft smile.

"Edward Elric!" cried a familiar deep voice and then the sound of bones crunching together, and a death cry.

"Let me guess," Roy said, "Armstrong just hugged him."

"Mmhm." A pause. "Grumman's coming back."

There was the tap of a fork on glass and the sound gradually faded away. "Welcome to our annual military ball!" said the old voice. "It is an honor to stand before you now and announce that, as your Fuhrer. I know that there has been much going on in this past year," he said, his voice growing solemn, "and we have lost quite a few of our number. Once again, in honor of them, we will observe a moment of silence for our fallen comrades."

The silence was deafening to him, inside and out. He shut his blind eyes tightly against the loudness setting in upon his ears. Faces of lost subordinates, confidantes, friends, Hughes, and how he'd almost lost the woman beside him... Over and over, they flitted past before his mind's eye, and he realized that even though they were slowly fading from his memories, the emotions were still fresh inside him.

An unconscious shuffling of fabric to his left, from Riza, broke him out of his mental lockdown. He swallowed softly as he felt her hand on his thigh, lightly patting it twice, before it went to her own lap once again.

"And now," Grumman piped up, and there was the sound of a hundred or so people moving in their seats. "We have a special announcement. May I have Colonel Roy Mustang come forth?"

Roy blinked, but automatically stood up. What was the old man up to now? 


	8. Surprises

He had stood up, but now he was frozen. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't feel the things around him. Riza watched him for a few seconds before rising, taking his arm once more. The gesture jumpstarted his legs and she guided him towards the Fuhrer.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Grumman whispered, smiling behind his corpulent mustache. Out loud, he said, "Starting today, Roy Mustang will no longer be a colonel."

There was a very pregnant pause. Roy blanched visibly; Riza squeezed his arm tightly.

Then Grumman laughed heartily. "He will no longer be a colonel, for today on he shall be known as Brigadier General Roy Mustang!"

There was applause, and Roy's heart beat just as fast along with the clapping. That had scared him, but he was rapidly bringing his emotions back under control. He heard a loud whistle and he had a sneaking suspicion it had come from Edward.

"I'll spare you a long speech," Grumman continued. "But, for his actions on that fateful day almost two months ago, he has deserved this promotion, and all of his superiors were in agreement. When he goes off to the east, to Ishbal, he will need all of his subordinates to respect him and follow him without question; what he will be doing over there is incredibly important to our nation, in order for it to once again become For the People."

Applause again. Grumman whispered, "Would you like to say something, Brigadier General?"

He nodded, and the old man sat back down. Riza took an empty seat beside her ward. He felt his eyes roam around at the multitude of people, but he saw only darkness, and he closed his eyes.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Fuhrer Grumman," he said solemnly, his voice soft but managing to permeate the room. "As many of you know, I have lost my sense of sight." A pause, in case it needed to sink in. "I had a vision for this country, and I had to pay the price." It was a vague statement, as not many really knew what had gone on that day. "What I am about to do in the east is going to be revolutionary, and I will need all of the help I can get. Because I cannot see, I will need all of you to be my eyes. I want you all to see what is going to happen, what is happening now, and I want you to see it in place of me."

He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. If he had known about this, he would have written up a speech beforehand (or, more technically, had one of his men write it for him, as he was now useless with a pen). But, as it were, he was unprepared. His mouth closed and he bowed his head.

Apparently it was good enough, for there was more applause. Grumman stood up once more, and he gestured for Riza to as well. And, before the whole assembly, Grumman saluted him, he saluted back, and he was given his new rank. Riza pressed closer to him to fasten it to his shoulders.

"Congratulations," she whispered, and this word meant more to him than the applause from the hundred or so people there.

"Perhaps a kiss from the pretty lady to sweeten the deal?" Grumman whispered, waggling his eyebrows.

They both turned pensive under his gaze and he laughed, then waved them away. They sat back down and the Fuhrer wasted no time in announcing dinner. There was a magnificent buffet, which Breda tore into eagerly.

Falman, who had appeared at some point with his wife, had used his excessive store of knowledge to fix a plate of food for both Roy and Riza. "I figured you'd be kind of lost in the crowd, so..."

Roy blinked. "Thank you, Falman."

"You're welcome, Brigadier General, sir!" he saluted, before going back to the buffet with his wife.

Roy sighed and fingered the tablecloth until he found his fork. "That name is rather long, isn't it?"

"Miss being a colonel, now?"

He chewed on something (a piece of meat; it tasted like butter and gravy and beef) thoughtfully. "No," he said before giving a soft smile. "This might not be what I had had in mind, but this might actually be better, in a way."

She left his mysterious comment alone and started on her own dinner.

There was chatter everywhere. The accumulation of a hundred inside voices turned into a dull roar. He felt like he was in the center of a tornado. He might have been nervous, but he knew his hunting bird was watching. He pictured her surreptitious glances, what he remembered from back then. The military was not perfect yet, not by a long shot, and she knew this, and he knew she was poised to withdraw the handgun concealed on her thigh at a moment's notice.

With dinner more or less finished, Grumman demanded their attention again. "Now that we have filled our stomachs with such good food, we can commence with the physical social activities." He clapped his hands and the orchestra started, a piece that began with a lilting violin. "May the dancing begin!"

He himself went onto the dance floor first, dragging with him the former Fuhrer's wife, Mrs. Bradley, who looked rather alarmed. Havoc shyly asked Rebecca to dance and they, too, left the table. Armstrong, having enjoyed some of the wine, was out there in the middle by himself, shirt off as usual, and flexing beautifully in time with the music.

The two of them sat in reasonable silence as the rest of the table left them behind. The last to get up were Winry and Edward, as the former hooked her arm in his and lugged him behind her.

There was nothing to occupy himself with, and the silence between them was killing him. Finally he opened his mouth to say, "Would you like to dance?", but his first two words clashed with Riza's own and they both paused, blinking. "Uh," he said intelligently, "You first."

She stood up and held her hand out to him; he felt her thumb brush against his arm. "May I escort you to the dancefloor, sir?"

He stood as well, taking her arm. "Nothing too extravagant, mind you, like the salsa. Some might believe you'd be doing me in."

"Oh, so you knew of my plans to utterly embarass you. Now what shall I do?"

Her joking tone caught him off-guard. Since when had Riza joked? But his mind drew a blank when she stopped him and spun towards him, her right hand alighting on his shoulder as she slipped her left into his. When he paused, she took his other hand and placed it on her back.

Her skin was cool and smooth against his; her dress was soft and silky, and he absently rubbed his thumb against it. She replaced her hand on his shoulder.

"May I lead?" she asked.

"Would you rather the blind man lead instead?" he asked back.

She rolled her eyes and brought her left foot forward as he stepped back.

"I'm not going to hit anybody, am I?" He was nervous about making a mistake, no matter how much he joked around. His eyes were clenched tight as he felt the people around him, as he concentrated on making his feet move correctly so as not to step on her.

"No," she said confidently, and he took her word for it.


	9. Fatigue

As the hour wore on, they slowly brought their bodies closer together as they danced silently among the other guests. His hand, starting out on her waist, unconsciously travelled across her back at an angle until it rested in the middle of her spine. Her right arm was pressed against his, her own hand on his left shoulder-blade. They had been proccupied with other things (Riza on watching the people around her and Roy with trying not to step on her) that it came as a shock when her breasts bumped against his chest.

He sucked in a breath as she backed up a foot. "Sorry," she said.

"No... problem..."

Now added to their other distractions, they were highly aware of the proximity of the other now. But, in a few minutes, like a magnet, they were drawn closer again. He felt an involuntary twitch in a finger on his back as she readied herself to pull away again, but he tightened his hold on her waist. She paused and looked up at him, her face so close to his.

"It's okay," he said softly, swallowing. "You don't have to."

She made as if to speak, but thought better of it. Still, she did not distance herself from him again.

God, he was so tired. The intense amount of concentration he was putting into his surroundings, and his heart beating fast against hers, and the rising heat in the room as a hundred bodies moved around and talked... they were all factoring into his exhaustion. He was still not sleeping right, although his sporadic nighttime naps were getting longer.

He just wanted so bad to lay his head on her shoulder and rest. But, he figured, that was too much to ask.

"Colonel..."

"Hm?" he asked absently. It hadn't even occurred to him to correct her, as he was no longer a colonel anymore.

"Can we change partners for a few minutes?"

His brows furrowed. "With who?"

"A young man with golden hair."

Oh. Edward. "Alright."

They stopped and she left him. He was disoriented for a second, standing in the mass of bodies alone, and then someone took his hand and laid another on his shoulder. "Roy Mustang," said the voice, and he could tell that she was smiling.

"Um... Winry, right?"

She giggled. "Right."

He visibly relaxed but he was still a little tense.

"Lost without your eyes?"

"Yeah..." Instinctively he let his eyes roam around, even though he couldn't see.

"Your eyes are with Ed, about ten feet or so to the left."

"Ah."

He could still smell her perfume, but that could've been what she'd left on him.

"Have you told her you love her yet?"

His eyes went back to her voice, staring at her mouth. "What?"

"Riza. Have you told her?"

"Er..."

"Oh, c'mon. I know you do."

"I..."

"Aren't you the least bit happy about having her next to you 24/7, close enough to touch?"

"That's..." He stopped and she could see his face close up in silence. She smiled sadly.

"I once told her, that if I ever strayed from my path, to not hesitate to shoot me. And she agreed."

She wondered what this had to do with confessing his love, but she went along with it. "What, you're afraid she's gonna get trigger-happy?"

"No, but-"

"Well, you have nothing to worry about. You won't stray from your path, because she's leading you. Who else could understand your vision better than your subordinates, better than the woman you love?"

His eyes widened, and he almost stopped dancing, but Winry continued to drag him along. He couldn't see it, but she was grinning widely.

"Partner change again. Good luck?"

"Wha-?"

Her hands left him and the smell of roses invaded his senses once more as Riza placed her hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

"Sorry, I had to talk to Edward about something. You seemed quite talkative with Winry, though."

"Yeah..."

They danced for a minute or so, but she could tell he was feeling a little uncomfortable. "Want to rest?"

"Sure," he said, despondent.

Riza led him over to a table and chair and they sat down. He said nothing else, just glared broodingly at the tabletop.

She lifted a glass of water and drank from it. "Edward and I have been planning something," she said vaguely.

"Oh?" he said, without interest.

"A get-together in Resembool, as we go passed it towards Ishbal."

"Hm. It's not really on the way."

"You're absolutely required to go," she said adamantly.

"If you say so."

She looked at him weirdly before setting her glass down. She was going to ask him what was wrong, but a few of the men accosted them at the table. Breda had Fuery in a headlock and the younger man was hanging there dejectedly.

"Hey, boss," Breda said, grinning. "We want to ask you something."

Falman just stood there, stoic as always. Havoc was brooding, probably about not having Rebecca with him. Armstrong was sparkling, as usual, his military jacket hanging over one grotesquely muscular arm.

"What is it?" Roy asked.

"How's about going out for a celebratory drink for your promotion, eh?"

Riza frowned, opening her mouth to suggest otherwise, but Roy beat her to the punch.

"Alright."

She stared at him, eyes wide. He was going to go drinking? _Tonight_? The night before they have to leave to go to the east? Was he serious?


	10. Cruelty

Oh, he was serious, alright.

And she'd never seen him drink so much in her life. Sure, he had a high buzz threshold, but the amount of alcohol he consumed was ridiculous. Add to that the fact that he was still acting incredibly off-kilter and you got one worried Riza.

She, of course, didn't drink anything, merely observed the men's antics. Come to think of it, she never did drink in front of them, and probably never will.

The scent of alcohol in the cab on the way home was pungent, from his breath and from his uniform, which Armstrong had spilled almost an entire beer on.

He even shrugged her arm away as she tried to lead him to the house. He walked a few feet behind her, and flawlessly went up the steps to her apartment with one hand on the railing.

She turned to take his arm and helped him into the house, and he didn't push her away this time. He always seemed to find a way of tripping over the doorjamb unless she helped him. She made her way down the hall to the bedroom and gratefully kicked her high heels off. She was not used to them anymore and relished the feel of her feet being flat on the floor once again.

Riza went over to her desk to take off her jewelry when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around and unconsciously pressed her back against the wall. He was really close.

She felt a hand, searching, felt it find the clip in her hair and then the catch released. The silky strands, wavy now with humidity, slid down her neck and onto her shoulders. He leaned over and, shoulders hunching, pressed his face into her hair.

Riza sucked in half of a breath in alarm. "Colonel."

"I'm not a Colonel anymore," he murmured, his lips barely touching her neck.

"Brigadier General."

His hand was on her other shoulder, his thumb lightly tracing a part of the deep, rigid scar on her throat.

"Roy..."

At the mention of his name, he pulled his head back to look at her.

"You're drunk."

She took this opportunity to place her hand on his face and push him away before scooting away from the wall. Caught off-balance, he fell onto his backside on her bed.

"I am not drunk," he stated, touching one temple with a forefinger. The fall had made him dizzy.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

Riza ignored him, went to the other side of the room. He heard the rustle of fabric, heard silk slide against silk, as she slipped out of her dress and it piled onto the floor. His heart stuttered slightly, but he managed to get it back under control.

"Undressing for me, I see."

She turned to look at him sharply. "_I see?_" she repeated.

He stared at her, eyes unfocused as ever. Her muscles relaxed slightly. Of course he couldn't see again. It was a sure sign of her being tired that she even thought he could, even for a second.

"...Slip of the tongue," he responded, his brows drawn together.

Riza picked up her dress, put it back on the hanger and back in the closet. She pulled out a pair of loose pants and button-up shirt and shrugged herself into them.

"It'd be nice... to see it again."

"See what?"

"Your body."

Once again her eyes were sharp on his face.

"I've only ever seen your back."

When he had studied the salamander array tattooed on the skin—and the time when she asked him to burn it, after the Ishbal Massacre.

Riza went over to his bureau and took out a pair of pants and a shirt and tossed them at his face. They slid down into his lap and she saw him grin.

"You're drunk," she repeated once more.

"So you'd let me see it if I wasn't?"

"Go take a shower, you smell like booze."

She ignored whatever he said next, went down the hall to the kitchen.

Riza covered her face with one hand, felt the horrible blush there. What the hell had brought those comments on? Sure, he was intoxicated, but she'd seen him that way before. He was completely whacked, usually, and sometimes he clammed up tight. Why had he suddenly turned sultry? And why had her body responded?

Yes, she was definitely tired.

After backtracking to the bathroom to wash her face, trying to buy as much time as she could, she went back to the kitchen and made two glasses of water. One she gulped down immediately. The other she took to the bedroom.

Her footsteps were silent as she stalked down the hallway and she looked uneasily into the room. He had changed, she saw, his uniform piled on the floor, but he had only put the pants on. He was laying on her bed fast asleep.

Riza let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and went over to him. He was sweating, which was why the shirt she had given him was on the floor, too. She dipped two fingers in the glass of cold water and rubbed them across his flushed face. He took in a deep breath and sighed, but did not wake.

"I told you to take a shower," she whispered. "And why are you still on my bed?" Now her sheets were going to smell like beer. Well, it was time to wash them again, anyway.

She set the glass of water on her nightstand and picked up his uniform, tossing it into the hamper. The nightshirt she waved about in the air before returning it to his dresser. It was clean enough. She took the time to take off her jewelry now and slipped them into her desk, and undid the clasp on the garter holster on her thigh and placed this on the desk as well.

Riza went to the window and opened it an inch or so. A cool caress touched her hands, made her shiver. She dragged his blanket off of his own bed and tossed it over his prone body, then went to get another blanket for herself.

As she settled down on his bed, she caught a whiff of his scent. His sweat, his warmth, his hair. She buried her face in his pillow.

_If there is a god out there, you're being awfully cruel tonight._


	11. Monster

"Lieutenant..."

There was a soft thumping noise inside of her head. She shifted positions under the blanket and relaxed again.

"...Lieutenant..."

The noise was getting louder. She frowned in her sleep, turning to lay on her back.

"Lieutenant... I'm dying..."

Her eyes popped open and she sat up. The noise had, in fact, been someone knocking on her door. She ignored Roy as she got up and answered it. As soon as it was opened, her dog bowled her over, covering her with kisses.

"Oh, my. He really missed you, Riza."

The young woman gently shoved Hayate away and stood up to look at the smiling old woman at her door.

"Thank you for watching him last night, ma'am. I really appreciate it. I would have gotten him when we got back in, but I figured you were probably asleep. It was really late."

"It's no problem, dear. He was a wonderful companion."

They said their goodbyes and Riza shut the door. Hayate had wandered off, back to the bedroom, as there were more issued complaints. She walked back there, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"Lieutenant," Roy whimpered. "I'm dying. I'm dying and you don't care. A monster has knocked down the door and is licking my toes."

Said monster cocked his head to one side and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Roy shuddered. "He's going to eat my eyes next. I can feel him pulling them out, ever so slowly, his claws sinking through to my brain..."

Riza raised an eyebrow before going to the window and closing it, rotating the blinds and pulling down the curtains.

"Oh," said Roy, blinking in the coolness that came from the new dark. "Nevermind."

"Hangover, huh?"

"My head... I'm going to die..."

She sighed, standing there, thinking, her foot tapping absently on the floor. Finally, she came to a conclusion. "Stay here. Hayate, watch him. I'm going out to get some medicine."

"You don't have any here?" he asked pathetically.

"No. I don't get hangovers because _I don't drink myself through an ocean of beer_."

"You're going to leave me? Again?"

She paused as she slipped a pair of shoes on. She really didn't want to. Not in his pathetic state. But she didn't want the public to see her lugging a hungover Brigadier General down the street, either.

"Would you rather I not get you medicine and let you suffer, and tape your mouth shut so you be quiet?"

Silence.

"Hurry back," he said feebly, covering himself with the blanket.

She rolled her eyes and left. But as soon as she shut the door behind her, her heart was on hyperdrive. She was leaving him again.

Riza swallowed before steeling her resolve. Five minutes, tops, that's the longest she'd be away. Besides, the shop was right down the street. What's the worst that could happen in five minutes?

...She didn't answer that question, just shut the thought off completely. Eyes sharp, she set off into the city, leaving her charge behind her.

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"Hayate, she's left me again..."

The dog violently shoved his nose under the man's hand and Roy pet him absently.

Part of the patheticness had been staged. He still felt like shit, but he needed to do that. Especially after what happened last night. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. That had been stupid. Curse Winry and her intuitiveness.

And then, suddenly, the dog was growling. The low noise throbbed in Roy's head and he winced. "What's the matter?"

Hayate sprinted down the hallway to the door, barking and scratching at the wood. Roy gingerly got up, the movements making his head hurt even more. He needed a drink of water, knowing half of the reason for his headache was from dehydration. But Hayate's weird behavior came first. He made his way down the hallway, reaching out along the wall by the door until he found the leash there, and clipped it to the dog's collar.

He was unceremoniously yanked through the doorway and into the corridor outside. The breeze was colder than yesterday, nippy, and he wondered what time it was. The fresh air through his lungs and across his bare chest helped his hangover somewhat. He realized he didn't have a shirt on, but... Hayate had paused, sniffing, before growling and tugging at his leash.

"What's wrong, boy?"

And in the next second, he knew. He smelled it.

A faint whiff...

...of smoke.


	12. Heatseeker

The next second the leash was violently ripped out of his hand. It wasn't until Hayate was halfway down the corridor, barking his fool head off, that Roy felt the pain of the rope burn sink in.

"Ow... Hayate! Get back here!"

The noise from the dog caused a few doors to open.

"Oh, young man, you're that blind one..."

His eyes sought out the voice and he blinked. "You're the lady who took care of Hayate."

"Yes. What is up with him this morning? And where's Riza?"

"She went into town, and Hayate-he smelled smoke."

"Smoke?"

He sucked in a breath through his nose. The scent was still there, stronger then before. "Yes, smoke. Ma'am, I don't know what it is or where it is, but I'd advise passing the word on."

Roy started down the corridor, listening to Hayate's barks a little ways away.

"Young man! You should put a shirt on!"

"I'll be fine, ma'am, but thanks anyway!"

He started to jog. It was dangerous, he knew, as some people were loitering about, looking to see the barking dog, but he could feel them at close proximity and was able to pivot around them.

"Mommy, I smell something funny," said a little girl's voice.

"Yes, darling, it smells like... something is burning."

Roy stopped. "Ma'am, can you see where it might be coming from?"

"Oh..." A pause. "The next complex over... I think I see some smoke over there."

"Thanks," he said and rushed off, his pace getting faster as he got more bold with his footing.

He almost fell down a set of steps but managed to grab hold of the railing. "Shit..." He pulled himself up and went as fast as he could down them. "Hayate! Where are you?"

A bark answered him nearby and he pinpointed that in his mind. The dog bounded up to him and tugged on his pants leg.

"What's up, boy?" he asked, laying a hand on top of the canine's head.

He let out a whine and then perked his ears up. Roy listened hard, too.

"I can't hear anything."

Hayate barked and Roy had a split second to loop his hand through the collar before the dog was off again. The scent of fire was thicker here, and he could feel a definite heating-up of the atmosphere to his front. The crackle of the flames was niggling at the back of his hearing, almost covered by the gasps and shrieks of people.

Hayate stuck his ears up again and listened. Roy did the same once again.

A high-pitched scream.

"Oh, my god, my son is in there!" yelled a woman.

Roy sucked in a breath, bumped to the crowd over to this woman, barely able to restrain Hayate in his fist.

"Where is he?" he asked her.

"On the third floor, I can see him in the window. Oh my god, my boy..."

"What's the extent of the fire? What caused it, where is it?"

A man answered him this time. "It started in the kitchen, it's almost completely engulfed the first floor."

"Thanks."

He finally let Hayate go and the dog ran off into the house.

"Sir, your dog-!"

He waved the woman off and went after him.

"Hayate, tell me where you are!"

There was an answering bark from within and Roy shrugged his way into the house. It was hot inside. He stood there, blinking, his eyes burning.

Hear, touch, smell, taste...

Smell and taste were out of the question. Those two senses were blocked as well.

He heard the snap and crackle of fire, the creaking of timber and the splintering of wood.

He felt, with his bare skin, the miniscule hairs on his body, air currents and flames, where the temperature was hot and where it was slightly cooler.

And he knew, deep inside, where the burning coals lay in the house, simmering and spitting.

They were crawling up the walls, eating away at the paint of the ceiling, slinking their way onto the stairs. Fire in front of him, on both sides. The only way to go was through the flames.

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"I hope this is strong enough for him," Riza mused, frowning at the bag of medicine in her hand as she walked down the street. "He looked rather wimpy this morning..." She sucked in a breath, smelled something odd, but it didn't register in her mind. Her thoughts were full of worry again.

Before she could even think of any bad outcomes, she started to sprint down the road towards her apartment complex.

"Riza!" cried a voice, and she paused for a beat.

"Riza, that young man of yours has gone off towards a fire!"

"...Fire?" she asked, her heart freezing cold in her chest. Involuntarily, she breathed in and it finally sunk in that she did smell smoke. Her eyes scanned the skies, noticed billowing clouds down the block.

Not thinking now, only running on a sudden spurt of adrenaline, she dashed off towards the fire, only one rational thought repeating like a mantra inside her head.

_You fool, you fool; if you die, I'll kill you!_

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**A/N:** Pretty, pretty, pretty please, check out the bottom of my profile (the P.P.S.) and visit us. We'd love more support! 8D


	13. Adrenaline

Okay.

He could do this.

Roy clapped his hands together and then slowly pulled them apart. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it-the oxygen in the house bending to his will. It was sucked roughly into the space between his hands, twirling in an invisible ball. The further his hands pulled apart, the bigger that ball got. The flames around him grew smaller.

But then there came a crash from the kitchen as a cabinet fell and that broke his concentration; the transmutation was broken. The oxygen whooshed back into the house and the flames grew taller than before, crackling with joy from escaping their narrow fate, reaching out with their tongues to lap at his bare skin. The hair on his right arm was singed and he smelled the sickening odor of it.

"Shit... Hayate!"

The dog barked from upstairs and there came a small boy's cry of help.

Roy felt the flames around him and then confidently leapt through them onto the stairs. The floor was hot under his feet but he ignored it as he climbed upwards. He heard the slight splintering of wood beneath his right foot. He had to make this fast. He sprinted up the winding stairs past the second floor.

"Hayate!" he called as he got to the third landing.

He followed the dog's voice to a room at the end of the hall. There was smoke everywhere and he tried not to breath in.

"D-daddy?"

"C'mere, kid, let's get you out of here." He held out a hand and the boy practically leapt into his arms. He manuevered the child onto his back. "Hold on tight, and cover your mouth and nose with your shirt, okay?"

"Okay."

Hayate swept past him, his fur rubbing against Roy's leg. The man followed him to the hallway and back to the stairs.

"Don't breathe if you can help it," he said to the kid, and started to go down the steps. He listened to the dog at his side, the thumps on the steps telling him exactly where they were. He couldn't hold onto the railing with both of his hands around the kid's legs.

The floor beneath his feet on the second landing was hot to the touch. The scent of burnt carpet and fabric was pungeant and sickening. He almost tripped over Hayate when the dog stopped. The canine whimpered a bit.

"Can we not go through?" Roy asked.

A high-pitched whine. There was the sound of wood breaking apart and the floor shifted underneath them as one of the supporting columns collapsed. The boy gripped him tightly around the neck in a stranglehold, but that was the least of his problems. He threw out an arm to balance himself. The floor had tilted seven degrees towards the stairs that went down to the foyer. He hesitantly reached out with a bare foot and felt around with it. The topmost step was still there, and the one underneath of it was starting to catch fire.

He bit his lip, inwardly cursing at how dry the timber was. The fire was spreading too quickly.

"Hayate."

Another whimper.

"Come here, boy..."

He knelt down and shifted the small boy to lay under one arm and picked the dog up awkwardly with the other.

Roy stepped down on the first step, closed his eyes, and ran.

The pain in his bare feet barely registered as the flames bit out at him. The wood shuddered beneath him and broke apart and he tumbled awkwardly to the floor, his two burdens pressed tight to his chest. The thump of his body hitting the floor pushed the flames aside for a split second, and he was on his feet in the next and then out the door in another.

He set the dog down and the mother was next to him immediately, taking her boy from him and holding him close.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness..."

The father came up and clapped Roy on the back awkwardly, almost unconsciously. "Thank you... thank you so much."

"Have everyone get on the other side of the street, please," Roy said in response. "Hayate, you go, too."

He listened as the others left him standing in front of the dying house. He sucked in a breath of cold air and then clapped his hands together once again.

This time, out of danger, nothing broke his concentration. He kept pulling the building's oxygen out until there was a swirling yarnball of rapid air currents three feet long, a mass of captive worms sucked into a tight space.

And then, when he knew the flames of the house were nothing more then glowing coals, he tilted his head back, let out a slow breath, and released it. The compressed ball of incredible energy lanuched into the sky, unraveling in its wake, the force of it flinging into his face making him suck in a breath of pure oxygen that made him dizzy. He staggered sideways...

...and was caught by someone. A woman that smelled like roses.

"Fool..." she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied, standing up straight again. "Just a bit light-headed." He pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt his pulse there, pounding.

Hayate leaned against him and he leaned over to pat the dog on the head. He heard applause in the background and smiled wistfully.

"You were amazing, Major Hayate."

A bark of satisfaction.

"Come on, you're burned." Riza took hold of his wrist and led him back to the apartment. "Honestly, walking around without shoes and a shirt in this weather."

She was speaking incredibly calmly about the situation, but he felt the tremors going through her fingers around his wrist. He closed his eyes in silent apology.

As soon as they were in the apartment and the door was closed, she turned and slowly wrapped her arms around him, the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt gliding across his bare and singed skin like feathers. He hesitated for just a second before he mimicked her actions. It was a loose embrace, awkward but somehow perfect.

They stood there for a few moments before she pulled away. She cleared her throat.

"How's that headache of yours?"

"It's coming back now."

"Good."

He blinked in surprise.

"Get in the bathroom so I can get you bandaged up, hero."


	14. Forward

The sound of the train's whistle roused him and he blinked wearily into the darkness, lifting his head. "Are we there yet?" he asked groggily.

"No," said an equally sleep-filled voice. "Go back to sleep."

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His skin hadn't been burned significantly, just small patches were slightly red. She still put some salve on the areas that she could see. The worst was his feet. He wasn't used to walking about barefoot in the middle of the city, so they were rather tender and uncallused. Walking on burning wood did not help the matter at all.

As soon as his adrenaline receded, his headache was back in full-force and he was coughing from slight smoke inhalation, and his feet burned like hell. She gave him his hangover medicine first and then some cough syrup from her cabinet.

"Is this a good combination?" he asked, after he'd ingested both, followed by two full glasses of ice-cold water.

She shrugged nonchalantly and went to work on his feet. She cleaned them with lukewarm water, getting rid of the ash and dirt that had gotten into the skin. He was already starting to blister.

"Ow," he said rather loudly, when she pressed too hard against one of them.

She said nothing, only Hmm'd in indifference as she opened the salve once again and smeared it over the bottoms of his feet. She massaged it in gently, but he winced nonetheless.

When she got to his toes, he suddenly pulled his feet away and she looked up at him, blinking. His face was turned to the side and looked a bit red. He said nothing, just cleared his throat.

Riza cocked her head to one side before it clicked in. "Did that tickle?"

"Of course not," he said adamantly, frowning, and she let a small smile grace her features.

"Well, give them back, I need to put bandages on them."

He reluctantly slid them back over to her and she wrapped them up in gauze, firm but not too tight, and not too loose. He sighed heavily.

"What?" she asked.

He thought about his words for a second. "You haven't yelled at me yet."

"Do you want me to?"

"Not particularly."

He listened to her pack the first aid kit back up and then place it back near the sink.

"Are you going to?" he asked at last.

She paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "No."

Roy blinked. "You're not?"

"No," she repeated, letting out a breath. "You saved that boy's life, and possibly more."

"Mm..."

"I'm going to make sure everything's packed," she said abruptly, and left him.

He stood up using the bathroom wall and gingerly put his weight on his feet. He could feel the blisters blooming on the pads but he couldn't feel the pain then. Still, he gently hopped back to the bedroom and over to his bed.

Riza had pretty much packed away everything in the past week, and he had lain there listening to her move around, bemused that he couldn't help. This time was no different. He plopped onto his bed and sighed again, staring unfocused up at the ceiling.

"Lieutenant."

"Sir."

"What time is our train?"

"Eight o'clock tonight."

"What time is it now?"

"Twelve noon."

He left her alone after that, just silently listening to her squirrel around. Hayate, ignored by his master and sulking, got up on his bed and laid against the length of his recently-acquired master's left side. When the headache medicine kicked in, along with the cough syrup, Roy curled up on his side, breathed in her scent on his pillow from last night, and dozed off.

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"Colonel."

"_Colonel._"

He shifted uncomfortably, his arm stinging. "'m not a Colonel anymore," he said sleepily.

"Brigadier General, get up and eat."

He'd only managed a thirty-minute nap. He sat up unwillingly and gingerly walked into the kitchen for a sandwich.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. The men had come in immediately after that to take their boxes, and revealed to them something the two hadn't thought about. A newspaper.

"Look, boss, you're on the front page!" Breda gloated.

Roy scowled. "I can't _look_, Breda."

Breda blinked before shrugging. "Falman can read it to you, then."

And so Falman did, reciting it in a monotone voice for the first paragraph before Armstrong tugged the paper away and started reading it aloud himself, doing great justice to the extravagant adventure story printed within of a gallant, handsome hero that jumped into a flaming inferno to rescue a scared child, doused the flames with alchemy, and then dramatically disappeared.

At the end, Roy sat there, one eyebrow raised incredibly high. "And... who did that again?"

"You did!" Armstrong said, posing himself. He had acted out the whole story whilst reading it, even though Roy couldn't watch.

"Yeahhh..." Roy said vaguely.

"Well, at least it's good for publicity," Fuery said pushing his glasses further up on his nose. They had become askew when Armstrong had chosen him for the child's role and had flung him all over the place.

They all helped carry the boxes out to a truck. There weren't too many boxes, just a few, but added to the already-loaded truck filled with the other men's boxes, it looked like a lot. Then, they pretty much loitered around the house, talking to each other about what they'd never forget in Central, memories and the like.

And now they were on the train, dressed in casual clothes but with their own compartments. Falman, Armstrong, Breda, and Havoc shared one (a disaster in the making), and across the aisle were Riza, Roy, Fuery, and Hayate.

Fuery, the type to fall asleep immediately in any type of vehicle, laid down and promptly dozed off, Hayate curled into his stomach.

Roy tried to stay awake, but his head kept drooping until it finally banged against Riza's shoulder.

"Ow," he said softly, rubbing his eye.

She grabbed his arm and tugged him down and he fell sideways onto her lap. He blinked in amazement. "Lieutenant?"

"Go to sleep."

He lay there awkwardly, before he scooched down a bit so that only his head was on her legs, his own limbs bent so that he could fit onto the rest of the seat.

"Good night," he said lamely.

"Good night."

It took him awhile to doze off, his heart beating too fast, but he managed to fall into a deep slumber, unconsciously rolling over onto his side so that his forehead was against her abdomen. Riza, too, over time, leaned her head against the window, the coolness on her temple pulling her into her own darkness.

Fuery opened one eye and looked at them. Hayate picked his head up and they glanced at each other. Fuery put a finger to his lips, smiling, before they both settled back to sleep.


	15. Arrival

The train's whistle resounded once more in his ears and he shifted his body in annoyance.

"Wake up, Brigadier General, we're here."

"Nn." He ignored the voice and snuggled closer into his warm pillow, taking in a deep breath of roses.

The pillow tensed under him. "Brigadier General," said the voice again, warningly.

He didn't have a chance to answer it when he felt something warm and wet on his cheek, sliding up the side of his face and over one eyeball. He gagged and sat up, wiping the dog drool off of his face. "What a nice wakeup call."

"Good boy, Hayate," said the voice and he flinched, remembering who exactly it was he had been laying on. He busied himself with wiping off the rest of the drool that wasn't there so he wouldn't have to face her.

"So, where are we?"

"Resembool."

"Oh. What time is it?"

He heard the shifting of fabric and then the click of a clasp. "0500."

Roy made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat. He felt a little warm, so he undid the first button of his shirt, freeing his neck.

Riza frowned. "I'd redo that if I were you, it's still cold outside this time of the morning."

"It's hot in here."

He felt something cool on his forehead and he froze beneath her fingers. "You're a bit warm." She replaced her fingers with the inside of her wrist, let it lay there a few seconds, and then put the back of her hand on one side of his face. "Are you feeling okay? Do you still have a hangover?" she asked skeptically.

"I'm fine," he said, adamantly brushing her hand away. "Come on."

She said nothing and followed him out of the compartment and into the corridor. She softly told him to watch his step as he descended onto the cement platform of the train station. A swift breeze swept past and he shuddered at the briskness of it. He rebuttoned his shirt bemusedly. She refrained from saying "I told you so", only clipped the leash onto Hayate's collar.

"Where'd Fuery go?"

"The men are unpacking the train."

"Bastard colonel!" cried out a voice, and Roy couldn't restrain the groan that escaped his throat.

"I was hoping your train had derailed yesterday and I wouldn't have to hear your little kid's voice ever again," he grumbled.

"What's that?" Edward ground out through an extremely tight smile, his teeth grinding together. "I think you said a word that starts with 'L', but I'm _not-too-sure_."

Roy put his hands up, laughing through his nose. "Little? You're childish enough to still get offended about that?"

A hand came up and prevented Edward from jumping onto the blind man out of pure rage. "Now, now, brother, is that a way to treat a guest?"

Roy's face turned serious. "Alphonse?"

He heard the familiar boyish giggle of the younger brother. "It's nice to see you again, Colonel. But I suppose it's 'Brigadier General' now, hm?"

The black-haired man smiled wistfully. They all made small talk as they climbed into the back of two carts loaded with their luggage. Edward took the reins of the horses on one and they trotted along down the pathway from the train station. Armstrong guided the other along behind them.

"How's your body holding up?" Riza asked Alphonse, sizing him up. "You seem to have gained a small amount of muscle back."

Alphonse grinned, flexing an arm. "It's hard work, but I'm not going to give up. Slowly but surely my body is returning to normal. So's Ed's right arm." He paused. "Brother says you're getting along better, considering the circumstances," he said to Roy.

"I'll echo what you said before, that it's hard work." Silence fell and he smiled. "But I'm not going to give up either. Havoc didn't."

"He seems to be doing a lot better."

"Rebecca supervised his physical therapy," Fuery pointed out, and they all paused before laughing. "He went through hell, and he's not a hundred percent yet, but he can move around pretty well after only a few months."

"That's great," Alphonse grinned. "The Philosopher's Stone is amazing." Such was the atmosphere on the cart that they didn't even think of the negative connotations of that statement. "Which reminds me... How come you haven't used it on yourself yet, Colonel?"

Roy furrowed his brows and chose his words before speaking. "I promised Marcoh that I would fix Ishbal as best as I could in exchange for the Stone. Since I haven't done anything yet, I figured I didn't deserve to use it just yet."

"But wouldn't it be easier if-" Alphonse trailed off when Riza shook her head at him, her own brows drawn.

Roy closed his eyes and smiled again, a smile that was a mix of sadness and resolve, a smile of unquestionable finality. They said nothing else on the matter after that.

The carts pulled up in front of the Rockbell house and the horses pranced on the spot, huffing, having enjoyed their walk and wanting more. Alphonse got down and rubbed their noses, calming them down.

"We've got beds set up all around the house for you guys, so as soon as we get your luggage in you can go back to sleep." Edward hopped down and started pulling boxes down. "We don't have anything really planned during the day for you guys, but we can give you a walk around Resembool if you'd like. What we have planned is at sundown."

"What's that?" Roy asked, suspicious.

"None of your business," Edward said, turning his head away, his nose in the air, as he carried a few boxes up to the door.

Roy grumbled but didn't quibble as Riza led him up the unfamiliar walkway and stairs to the door.

From now on, he thought, this was unfamiliar territory. All that effort to learn her apartment and he had to start all over again, here and then in Ishbal. A sense of apprehension took over his body, a short adrenaline burst that set the hair on his nape on end.

He was looking forward to the changes.


	16. Dreaming

_A gasp, a touch, a sigh. Warm breath washing over her neck, rough hand traveling up her abdomen, over her breasts, her collarbone, to rest lightly on her neck, fingers hovering over her rapid pulse._

_The whole world smelled of him. Wood and paper and fabric and a slight hint of sweat. She opened her eyes and saw him above her, cloaked in darkness as his mind usually was, felt his hand travel to her eyes and she slowly closed them once more. She moved closer to him, felt bare skin against bare skin, felt his need for her against her stomach, felt her own need for him grow larger and wilder and more beastlike, purring at being stroked, finally, with those fingers._

_He leaned forward and his hair brushed against her cheek as he whispered incoherent words in her ear, the blood rushing through her brain much too loud to discern their meaning, if they even had a meaning._

_A foreign feeling between her legs..._

And she woke up with a gasp, sitting up in the darkness. She looked around quickly, saw the dim outline of the horizon through the window, the first strand of sun over the world, lightening it but not yet golden. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the prone forms of the men around her on various cots and bits of furniture. Heard the ungodly snore of Armstrong in the corner, taking up two cots all by himself.

She breathed in a deep sigh and let it go, one hand on her stomach. The aftereffects of the dream were still there, probably wouldn't leave her for quite some time.

She ached. She hadn't had a dream like that in awhile, was hoping one would never come again.

Wrapped in that strange lucidity one gets while still half-asleep, she pulled her legs towards her, hugged them, buried her face in the blanket. Her whole body hurt now. Her stomach, her heart, and even moreso - her mind.

Only he could awaken such hurt inside of her. The mental stress of repressing such urges was making her go mad. It was easy to get comfortable around him, too, and make her forget, but then it was there, taking her by surprise when she least expected it.

And now... All those touches through the months of their living together... It all hit her at once.

They were getting too close. And she knew they both knew it.

He was fragile right now.

So it was her job to stop it.

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**He knew this scent.**

_Fire._

_Wood._

_Hair._

**He knew this feeling.**

_Heat, both inside and out._

_The rush inside of him of power wanting to be released._

_And letting it go all at once._

_And the fat in the air, the grease, covering him, cloying._

_The soot clogging up his nose._

**He knew these noises.**

_Crackle, spit._

_Screaming._

_A hissing whine as hair burned, as skin dissolved, as bones cracked._

_Buildings collapsing._

_Death rattles._

**He knew these tastes.**

_Wood-smoked._

_That fat on his tongue._

_Of human flesh, charcoaled._

_All invading his mouth even though it was closed to prevent them._

**He knew this sight.**

_Ishbal._

_No._

_It wasn't Ishbal._

_This was something else._

_He looked and actually _saw_._

_Bodies._

_Of friends._

_And a broken, golden bird with vacant brown eyes._

_"Lieutenant..."_

"I'm here..."

_A voice from a great distance, like a hand. He grabbed hold of it, closed his eyes, and felt it pull him away._

"Wake up, Brigadier General."

He opened his eyes again, saw that darkness, but he also saw that bird in the corner of his mind, wind blowing feathers away, and he watched them crumble to dust.

"Shh..."

His ears felt wet. Was it raining? Was the house leaking?

He touched them.

No...

They were tears.

He took his shirt and wiped them away, brows furrowed, as he sat up. He felt her sitting on the side of his mattress, and it was enough.

"Are you okay now?" she asked.

"Yeah..."

Her hand alighted on his shoulder.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"


	17. Riverbank

It was a bit more cold out in Resembool in the mornings than it was in Central, more space for the wind to get at you. They put on sweaters over their sleeping clothes and slipped on their shoes and out the door they went. The rest of the men were sound asleep, and the occupants of the houses were as well in their own bedrooms.

"How are your feet?" she asked, noticing he was limping slightly.

"They don't hurt, they're just uncomfortable."

"Should we have bandaged them again before we'd left?"

"Nah, it's fine. Actually, when we get back, I'd like to take a needle to the blisters."

She couldn't keep the conversation up as they walked slowly down the dirt road. She had her hand on his elbow to guide him. He seemed rather absent-minded, from his nightmare and just having woken up, and wasn't really in the mind to try and sense things. There was barely anything to run into on the track anyway.

The sky slowly turned a brighter blue, leaking into a soft yellow that was more of a grey to the eye, until oranges and pinks followed it that brought the yellows into contrast. And then there was the sun.

She heard him take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"Is that the sunrise?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Never knew they felt so good..." He turned his head a little bit. "I hear water."

"The road meets up with a river in a little bit."

"Let's stop there."

It took them about fifteen more minutes to get to that spot, as Roy was starting to limp even more, and he slipped down the slope gratefully (albeit terrifyingly) and slid to a stop on the bank. It had levelled out before it touched the water. He reached out a hand and felt the river in more ways than one and smiled softly before taking his shoes off.

"What are you doing? That water is probably freezing."

"It's warm," he said, and dipped his blistered feet into the river, letting out a sigh of contentment.

Riza sat down beside him and curled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, watching the colors of the sky in the water. It wasn't the prettiest river in the world, as the water rushed by a little too fast and carried dirt with it, turning it a rather unappealing brown color. She wondered how the man next to her saw it now, with no eyes to see the surface ugliness.

She figured now was as good as time as any to broach that subject. But how to word it? No touching? At all? No words that could be mistaken as something else? Might as well not talk to each other at all. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the punch.

"I had a dream," he said, and his voice wasn't content anymore, now it seemed a little shaky and brooding. She let him talk, having lost her nerve to say anything at all in her surprise at his interruption. "It was Ishbal, and then not, and you were all dead..." He trailed off.

"You'd slept well the past two nights. I was wondering if the nightmares had all disappeared."

He turned his head towards her, his blind eyes roaming until they more or less found her own eyes. His own widened a slight fraction in what could have been realization.

"What?" she asked.

"I wonder..."

She frowned at his crypticness. Suddenly he flopped down on his back on the grassy bank and stared up at the sky.

"Close your eyes," she admonished softly.

He did as he was told, one side of his mouth crooked up. "Yes, ma'am."

"Taking a nap, here?"

"Yep." He rolled over onto his side to face her, running one hand absently through the blades of grass. "You should, too. I know I've probably kept you up at night as well, not just myself."

She couldn't keep a scowl from her face as she glared at the river. She knew he meant his nightmares, but she had her own dream pop into her head right at that moment. He had no idea how much he was keeping her up at night.

"Nature might do you some good," he wheedled.

She took a sigh and laid down as well, on her back, a breeze sifting its own fingers through her bangs.

"What time do you think it is?" he asked.

"Oh six hundred, maybe."

"Well, then, instead of good night, I bid thee good morning."

She let out a scoff before turning her back to him. "Good morning, then," she said softly. And something about the atmosphere, the senses overload, and even knowing he was right close beside her, caused her to drift off to sleep almost instantaneously.

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She woke up sweating to death in her sweater and she groggily sat up and slipped out of it. It had gotten quite warm through the morning and the sun was pretty high in the sky. She squinted up at it, trying to figure out the time. Maybe ten in the morning. Or two in the afternoon. She couldn't remember what direction the sun was rising from.

A splash distracted her and she turned her eyes back to the river. Roy was standing knee-deep in the murky water, shirtless and thoroughly soaked. He looked like he had just emerged from a swim, water running in trails from his hair to his shoulders, over his pecs and in each crevice of his abs, over the large scar on his side, disappearing into the waistband of his pants, which sagged, waterlogged, precariously past his hips. A surge went through her and she fought hard to quell it, something she could have contained easily had she been awake, but her grogginess made it a little slow this time.

As if he had heard her shift around in the grass, even over the rush of the water, he turned his head towards her.

"Mornin'," he said, smiling.

"Morning," she said, swallowing. "Is it still?"

He shrugged, making his way towards her.

No, no, no, stay away. Unfortunately, he did not hear her telepathic pleas and sat down in the grass beside her.

"Water is amazing. The feel, the sound. And the mud on the bottom is so squishy and unpleasant at first, but then it starts to feel good. And over that melody of the river, I could _hear you move_. Impossible, right? But I could."

"We should get back to the house," she said quickly, standing up.

His face followed her voice and he blinked. "Alright."

She didn't even give him the time to flounder about for his effects. She picked his shirt and shoes up, grabbed his elbow, and dragged him up the slope to the road, where she instantly let go of him. They walked in silence. When he was dry enough, he asked for his shirt, and she gave it to him. When the house was in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, by now thoroughly awake and able to talk normally. "It's just getting late."

"Hmm..." he said, unconvinced, but not able to express it without seeming incredibly nosy. So he let it slide. For now.


End file.
